


Sated, For Now

by sdk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnant Sex, non-explicit Harry/Hermione, possible consent issues, possible infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4706270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdk/pseuds/sdk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always one who understands, one who’s willing and able and grateful to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sated, For Now

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BBTP Challenge on IJ, 2015.

A blast of heat hits Hermione as she walks into the club. The air is thick with sweat and the hard thumping beat of the latest Weird Sisters album, a far cry from the brisk autumn air and the relative quiet of the short walk from the Apparition point in the alley. She spies several costumes, as if this were a fancy dress party, and jack-o’-lanterns hang from the ceiling, casting a fiery glow over the dancers below, but the place is mostly the same as every other time Hermione’s been here: filled with bare skin, grinding twos and threesomes, and wafts of smoke from shots of firewhiskey passed through the crowd. 

With a hand on her belly, Hermione nudges her way towards the bar. She feels the questioning stares she always gets, wondering why a woman in her condition would come to a place like this, but she pays them no mind. There’s always one who understands, one who’s willing and able and grateful to oblige. She squeezes her way to an empty spot, orders a diet coke, and that’s when she feels him slide up behind her. He smells musky and sweet; she closes her eyes and inhales. Her skin tingles in anticipation. 

Yes. He’s the one. 

She turns to discover Blaise Zabini staring right back at her. If he’s surprised to see her here, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his eyes rake over her and she gives him a long look in return. He’s taller than she remembers, leaner perhaps; the years have treated him well. She brushes against him, using the crowd as her excuse, and feels him already aroused, hard against the swell of her belly. Hermione smiles. Blaise licks his lips. 

She doesn’t bother to wait for her drink. 

~

Without a word, Hermione grabs his hand and leads him to the back of the club, to a private room with which she’s more than a little familiar. The door barely has time to shut behind them before Blaise is on her, pressing her back against the wall. He doesn’t waste time and dives straight to her breasts, sucking on her nipple through her blouse. She moans and runs her fingers over his closely cropped hair, arcing into him. She knew he wouldn’t be one for kissing and all that rot and she’s glad for it; this isn’t about romance, this is about satisfying hunger and need. 

Blaise pushes her shirt up before switching to her other breast, shoving the bra cup out of his way before she has time to undo the latch herself. Her nipples are already sore and oversensitive that every flick of his tongue sends arousal coursing to her centre. She’s already so wet, and he hasn’t even started properly yet. When his teeth come out to play, she’s pulsing with need. She spreads her thighs, shoves his hand beneath her skirt and whimpers, “Please.” 

He pulls back, dark eyes glittering, and cups her teasingly, fingers rubbing lightly along her folds. She hasn’t got any knickers on; she’s taken to leaving them off on these nights—they only get in the way. 

“What do you want?” he asks, his other hand full with her breast. He grabs it and squeezes, catching the nipple between two fingers. 

“I want your cock, but your fingers will do for now,” she says, though her voice trembles more than she’d like. 

“How about my tongue?” he answers. In the space of her breathy “Yes,” her zip is undone and her skirt falls to her feet. He kisses down between her breasts, over the mound of her belly, pausing to suck beneath her belly button, his hands coming up to caress her tummy. 

“Who’s the father?” he asks.

“Does it matter?” she says. 

His hands round her hips and he chuckles lowly. “No.”

Enough talk, she thinks, but keeps her mouth shut. Instead she presses his head down until he settles on his knees and disappears beneath her stomach. Bracing herself against the wall, she props one foot on the door jam and plays with her breasts. The heat of his breath comes first, and then finally flicks of his tongue, teasing her folds, swirling around her clit. He slides two fingers in her easy and pumps in and out a few times before sneaking back a third against her anus. She grinds against his face—his chin must be a drippy sticky mess by now, and the thought of it sends her over the edge. 

She’s still trembling when he rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, though his chin remains shiny and damp.

“Is that all you want, Granger?” 

Hermione raises an eyebrow. She walks past him to the small sofa flush against the wall in the corner, hoping that the shakiness in her legs isn’t obvious. She hikes a knee on the cushion, displaying herself. Her thighs are as wet as his chin and when she looks over her shoulder, she sees Blaise lick his lips. A thrill runs down her spine. “I told you want I want.”

Blaise wastes no time shedding his trousers, and comes to her in stocking feet with his stiff cock bouncing between his thighs, pointed straight at her. She braces her weight against the back of the sofa, curling her fingers into the fabric in anticipation. It won’t be long until she can’t do it like this, and she wants it hard and fast, as rough as he’ll give it to her. She feels his heat behind her and she closes her eyes. 

But he doesn’t fuck her. Not at first. He teases her, sliding his length against her folds, the head of his cock slipping just between her lips. His arms come around her and he rubs her stomach, fingertips fluttering over her stretched navel and slopping down the curve of her tummy. He slips and slides against her until she can’t take it anymore; she growls low in her throat. He chuckles in her ear, low and breathy, his lips catching the shell, and thrusts inside all at once. 

His chest is hot and slippery against her back. He grips her hips, and his teeth scrape against her neck as he drives into her, so hard and fast that her fingers scrape against the wall as she pushes back into him. She loses herself here, in the snapping of his hips, in the sweat of his body, in the thrustthrust _thrust_ of his cock. She doesn’t realize she’s moaning until all of her muscles tense up, coiled tight, and then finally, sweet release blanks her vision and turns her mouth into the perfect round O.

When she comes back to herself, he’s still driving into her in quick ragged strokes that feel like heaven with her pleasant aftershocks. She manages to squeeze her muscles around him tightly one more time and he stills deep inside her, pulsing with seed. 

Her body thrums lightly. An easy soreness seeps into her as he withdraws and she turns and collapses on the sofa. She rubs her belly and closes her eyes. Sated, for now. 

—

He leaves her sprawled out on the sofa. It’s temping to stay for another round, but his hour is almost up, and he just manages to dart into the loo before his body shifts and molds back into its usual form. His vision blurs, but fortunately his glasses are still intact, hidden in his trousers. The vial of Blaise’s hair rests next to them in his pocket. He pats it, grateful that he thought ahead to get extra as Hermione seemed to like him best so far. 

Harry doesn’t mind doing what it takes to keep his wife satisfied, after all.


End file.
